


woke with your name like tears

by orphan_account



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Priests, M/M, it only happens twice and its pretty brief and also takes place in a dream, so nothing too terrible, ummmmm if ur worried about the violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 20:41:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16583786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: changmin is an unusually kind demon and yunho is a priest who's trying his best





	woke with your name like tears

**Author's Note:**

> well folks. the priest/demon trope is like my favorite thing ever and since halloween was coming up i thought it would be the perfect time to write it. yes i know it’s november 10th. this is the first fic i’ve written since like 2013 so i’m amazed i finished at all tbh
> 
> that being said i feel soooo rusty lmao and my brain was all over the place when i wrote this bc i’m just incapable of making an outline i guess but. i feel like it’s as good a start as any to get back into the swing of things? so. pls enjoy or at least try to

Yunho is standing at the altar, back facing the door, surrounded by the dim candles leftover from that night’s mass when he senses it.

 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

 

“I shouldn’t be a lot of places.” The voice is high-pitched and silky and rings of something oh-so-not-human.

 

“No. It shouldn’t be possible for you to walk on these grounds. This is a sacred place. You shouldn’t be here.”

 

“How very naive of you, _Father_ ,” It says the last word like it’s the most beautiful, poisonous thing it’s ever tasted. “These rituals you conduct are thousands of years old, and my kind just adore finding loopholes.”

 

Yunho distracts himself by gathering up the leftover pens from the pews. He tries to calm his shaking hands. He doesn’t look in the direction of the voice.

 

“Why have you come?” He does his best to mask the fear in his own.

 

He hears deliberately slow footsteps stalk towards him from the outer end of the pew. Yunho’s end connects with a wall. He has nowhere to go. He doesn’t look.

 

“I want something, Father _.”_ There’s the poison. There’s the sweetness. It’s spilling out onto Yunho and he resists the urge to cover his ears.

 

The footsteps get closer. They stop beside him. Yunho closes his eyes. A hand reaches out to grip his arm and it _burns._ It burns all through him, the flames licking him up from the inside out. Yunho tries to scream and pull away but the sound is stuck in his throat and his body refuses to move. He’s burns and burns and burns and then, as quickly as it began, the hand disappears, and the fire is gone.

 

Yunho takes a deep, gasping breath, grabbing the top of the pew to support himself. There are tears streaming down his face. He looks down at his arm and there is the faint shadow of a handprint.

 

“What is it that you want?” He’s trembling because he knows the answer.

 

“You.”

 

Yunho finally looks up into its face. The only thing he has time to process are the creature’s big, black eyes before the hand is back, but this time it’s on his chest and it’s reaching, _reaching_. Nails dig into his flesh through his cassock and they don’t stop they never stop and Yunho feels his own heart being ripped out of his body and then sees it beating in the demon’s hands.

 

His alarm goes off at 7:45am and Yunho wakes up screaming.

 

-

 

The next week their pianist spontaneously quits and two weeks after that Yunho is being introduced to her replacement.

 

“Yunho,” One of his deacons, Minho, says, “this is Changmin, our new pianist and choir member.”

 

Yunho focuses on the other man’s face, his round eyes and pretty mouth and wavy, dyed-silver hair that falls onto his forehead in the most enticing way. He looks like the sweetest, most poisonous thing Yunho’s ever seen. He’s looking back at Yunho almost in shock and with a little fear and he chalks it down to the man just being overwhelmed on his first day.

 

“It’s lovely to meet you. I can’t wait to see how you’ll fit with the church.” Yunho tells him with a smile and holds out his hand. The taller man grasps it and shakes briefly before letting go. Yunho feels vaguely like his hand has just been held over a lit fire. He ignores it.

 

“You as well, Father.” Changmin starts, and Yunho freezes. He knows that voice. He would know that silkiness anywhere. The only difference is that it sounds distinctively more human now. Yunho forces himself to unfreeze, smiles wider as Changmin keeps talking.

 

“-an honor to be here.” Yunho keeps smiling to the point where his cheeks start to hurt. He thinks it might freak the other man out, but then remembers the other man might actually be a demon, so he stops worrying. And then Changmin is whisked off to meet the other choir members and Yunho walks as quickly and unassumingly as he can to his office. He shuts the door and leans against it, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back on the old wood as he takes deep, shuddering breaths, willing his heartbeat to slow down. He stands there until it’s back to normal and then goes to sit at his desk. He opens his laptop.

 

-

 

Thirty minutes and many dumb google searches later, Yunho has found nothing. Apparently, a demon ripping your heart out in a dream and then showing up as a new employee of your church isn’t a very common occurrence.

 

Yunho sits there, tells himself this is all just a crazy coincidence. Changmin is probably a perfectly normal human being. Maybe he’d seen the taller man before, heard him give his order at a coffee shop, something, anything. But Yunho knows he would have remembered him. And he can’t shake that voice. Can’t imagine how he could have thought that up in his head and then have it materialize in the form of sin itself two weeks later. Maybe this is God testing him. Yunho sighs, rubs his hands over his face, and goes to leave his office.

 

Except, when he opens the door he almost runs into the man, _demon,_ he had just been frantically googling, who’s currently holding his hand in the air like he was getting ready to knock.

 

“Oh. Hi,” Yunho breathes out, taking a step back, “what can I do for you?”

 

Changmin smiles a smile much too innocent and bashful than what Yunho knows a creature like him should be capable of. “Hey. Minho told me I needed to get you to sign off on some of my papers, since you’re the head honcho.”

 

“Ah, of course,” Yunho offers the kindest smile he can manage in return and steps back, “come on in.”

 

They both sit down, across from each other at Yunho’s desk. The priest digs into one of his drawers for a pen and Changmin hands him the paperwork when he locates one.

 

“So how long have you been working here?” Yunho doesn’t look up from the papers. It’s a pretty common question.

 

“It’s coming up on fourteen years, I think.”

 

“Fourteen years?” Changmin sounds surprised. Most people do. “Um, but you look like, twenty-five.”

 

“Thirty-two, actually, but thank you.” Yunho lets his mouth quirk up. “I started out in the choir when I moved to this area for college. Got a degree in philosophy, completed seminary, and here I am.”

 

“Had you known since you were young that this is what you wanted to do?” Yunho looks up at that, decides to give the honest answer.

 

“I never knew anything else.” Yunho smiles, but it’s bleak. Changmin doesn’t ask any other questions, his face gone contemplative and maybe a little sad, lips forming a slightly adorable pout. Yunho thinks this is definitely God testing him.

 

-

 

The don’t talk much after that, but Yunho watches Changmin. Observes him as he interacts with the other church members, as he plays piano, as he sings.

 

He’s sweetly shy and a little awkward when he talks to people. Yunho can see him visibly think through every response before he gives it, sees his eyes get mismatched when he laughs at someone’s joke.

 

When he plays piano, he’s not shy anymore. There’s no awkwardness in the confident way his fingers glide over the keys. He has the talent and ease of someone who’s been playing for their entire life and more. Yunho wonders why on earth the man chose to work in a small-town church instead of joining a big-time orchestra, because he definitely has the credentials.

 

It’s the same when he sings. The sure, high-pitched lilt of his voice rings out through the church, distinct even when singing with the rest of the choir. Yunho has had all of one conversation with Changmin, but his voice has the caress of a long-time lover, and it makes Yunho ache.

 

He catches Changmin watching back every once in a while. Most of the time his gaze is calculating, analytical, searching. But sometimes, sometimes it’s heavy with feeling, with hunger, with a need that Yunho doesn’t let himself dissect.

 

As the weeks go by, they have a few conversations in passing, but nothing of importance. Yunho’s still suspicious, still has that feeling in his gut that Changmin isn’t who he says he is. He tries not to let it show, just waits for the opportunity to gather more evidence. To find _something_ that’ll let him know for sure.

 

-

 

He’s sitting at the piano, looking down at a music sheet, trying to work his way through the hymn, but every note he plays comes out sharp and off-key. They ring out and reverberate through the empty room. He starts over again and again, but every time the keys won’t cooperate. They remain one note off no matter which key Yunho presses.

 

Then, there is a presence behind him. It’s unnerving, but it doesn’t scare him. He knows who it is, but there is no danger. At least not yet.

 

The presence leans forward, wraps his arms around Yunho, covering the priest’s hands with his. Hair that does not belong to him brushes against his temple. He can feel the heat radiating off of the adjacent face. The demon’s chest conforms to Yunho’s back.

 

“ _Follow my lead_.” Whispers the lips pressed against his ear. And Yunho does.

 

The hands come to clutch his own, interlocking in a way that’s so perfect and warm that it makes Yunho ache. They move, guide him to press down on each note, and each note comes out beautifully. They finish the song. Yunho realizes his eyes have fallen shut.

 

The lips are back against his ear, but this time, they don’t say anything. Instead, they gently bite down on his earlobe. Yunho jolts and his eyes snap open, but he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t move away.

 

He feels the mouth against his ear grin. A fire starts somewhere. Maybe on the piano, maybe on himself. Yunho doesn’t know, doesn’t care. Lips bite down again, harder, then move to his neck. Yunho tilts his head automatically, to grant more access. The lips press kisses all the way down until his neck meets the collar of his cassock, and then move back up, leaving a trail of burn marks.

 

The demon bites at the area just underneath his ear, and it sends a shiver down Yunho’s spine. His own mouth falls open and his breathing gets more and more ragged. Lips bite the area again, harder. The priest gasps, loud in the silence of the church. The fire rages on.

 

The demon keeps biting. It’s getting painful now, but Yunho can’t get his mouth to say _stop._ And now the skin on his neck is being torn off, bit by bit. He feels the blood gushing out, spilling down his cassock. An artery is ripped open by teeth that get sharper by the second. Yunho can’t move, can’t react, can’t run. The hands untangle from his and they grab at his face, claws digging into his cheeks. The fire is everywhere, reaching through his skin, into his bones. He’s consumed.

 

His alarm goes off at 7:45am. Yunho wakes up and doesn’t scream.

 

-

 

Yunho goes to a bar that night, to think, to forget. It’s small, tucked into a corner, far enough away that he doesn’t think any of the church members will be there. Not that he cares if they see him drinking, he just doesn’t want them to ask why.

 

He sits at a table near the back instead of at the bar because he wants silence and privacy. Also french fries. He really wants french fries.

 

He’s scrolling through his phone, waiting on said french fries, beer already in hand, when someone sits in the chair across from him. He looks up to see Changmin. Yunho sighs inwardly because of course it is. The taller man is wearing a simple black t-shirt and black jeans with rips in the knees, a leather jacket thrown on top along with a beanie. He looks really, reallyhot. Yunho sends a quick prayer up to God simply to ask _why_.

 

“Fancy meeting you here.” Changmin says as he sets his own beer down on the table.

 

“It is, this bar’s a little out of the way.” Yunho eyes him carefully.

 

“It’s actually closer to my apartment than the church.”

 

Yunho raises his eyebrows at that, then decides to try something.

 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, where are you from? Your accent is northern.” He asks, feigning innocent curiosity. He’s never been a good actor, though.

 

“Oh, I’m from Seoul originally.”

 

The waiter comes then, setting Yunho’s fries on the table before walking away.

 

“That’s weird, I was thinking the papers I signed said you were from Incheon,” Yunho lies, “I guess I just remembered wrong.”

 

Changmin gets an odd look on his face, tilts his head slightly. “Yeah, I guess.” He doesn’t bring up the fact that Yunho shouldn’t have needed to ask if he had already read it in his file. Of course he’d be too smart to fall for that. Yunho sighs internally once again.

 

“Where are you from, then? You said you moved here for college.” Changmin asks in response.

 

“Gwangju. Not too far away.” The other man grunts in acknowledgment. They fall into silence as they sip on their beers.

 

Yunho tries again, pulls out the big guns.

 

“Tell me the story of how you got saved.” And that does it. Changmin eyes widen the smallest amount. Yunho can see the panic in them. The _oh shit I should have come up with a story for this beforehand_ look is clear for half a second before Changmin coughs to bide time. Then he takes a sip of his beer. Stalling. Yunho squashes down the feeling of triumph.

 

“Um, just your normal experience, I guess. Was raised in church so I’ve believed since I was young.”

 

Yunho smiles sweetly. “That’s nice.”

 

“Yeah.” They make eye contact. They hold it. It’s a little suspicious on both ends. The sounds of the bar seem to fade away.

 

“Well,” Changmin says abruptly after about five seconds, “I’ll leave you to it, then. Didn’t want to bother you for too long.” He stands up and grabs his now-empty beer. “Have a good night, Father.”

 

“You as well, Changmin.” They smile and nod at each other and then Yunho watches as Changmin walks up to the bar, sets his beer down as he tells the bartender something. He pays and then walks away.

 

And later, as Yunho makes to leave, calling over his waiter to ask for the bill, the waiter tells him it’s already been paid for.

 

“What? By who?”

 

“The man you were sitting with earlier, sir, he said he wanted to pay for table six in addition to his own tab.”

 

Yunho really doesn’t know what to make of the action. Maybe it was a show of friendship, maybe a show of power. Maybe he just did it because he could. Yunho figures it’s the last one.

 

He thanks the waiter and leaves, walking home in the dark chill of Autumn and thinking about how he definitely just let a demon buy him dinner.

 

-

 

A few nights later, after the last service, it’s just Yunho and Changmin left, picking up discarded pens. Yunho feels apprehension. Anticipation. It’s heavy and foreboding.

 

“Can you play for me?” Yunho surprises himself by asking, tells himself it has nothing to do with his dream.

 

“You hear me play during service all the time, Father.”

 

“Well, yes, but–something that’s not a hymn. Please.” Yunho knows he sounds a little desperate and he is. He thinks maybe he’s asking for something non-religious to distance himself from God. He brushes the thought off immediately. _No_ , he thinks, _I just want to hear something more complex. That’s all._

 

Changmin looks a little shocked, like he would have never expected this request. Yunho thinks back to their awkwardly tense conversation at the bar and understands why, but before he can think any more of it, the taller man schools his features back to normal. He goes to sit at the piano, long legs looking even longer due to the shortness of the bench. Yunho stares and gulps. Stares some more.

 

Changmin begins his song and it’s slow, the keys gently flowing into one another like the dreams Yunho used to have, before everything started. He doesn’t recognize the tune.

 

The notes ebb and flow and Yunho feels like it shouldn’t be possible for a creature from Hell to create something so utterly heavenly. It’s haunting and beautiful and painful in a way that makes Yunho’s feel like he’s drowning. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, calms his heartbeat. Listens.

 

After what could have been minutes or hours, Yunho doesn’t know, the song fades out. He opens his eyes to see Changmin looking at him, and his eyes are so heartbreakingly soft and so unlike what he was expecting it makes Yunho wonder if their running into each other at that bar had even happened.

 

They hold eye contact again, and it’s still tense like that night, but in a very different way that Yunho isn’t sure how to name.

 

-

 

They fall into a routine of sorts, every Saturday and Wednesday after night mass. Changmin plays non-hymns while Yunho sits in the second-row pew, eyes closed. He sits there as long as Changmin keeps playing, and when he’s done, Yunho tells him it was amazing, because it was. Then they go their separate ways for the night.

 

This goes on for weeks. They rarely have conversations, but those nights are still incredibly intimate somehow, a secret just between them. Yunho has to fight a blush every time he makes eye contact with Changmin during church hours now.

 

They don’t talk about it. Yunho doesn’t think about it. Doesn’t think about how he looks forward to these nights more than anything else during the week. Doesn’t think about how listening to Changmin play makes him forget that he’s a demon. Doesn’t think about how every song feels like a confession.

 

\- 

 

“I know you know.” Changmin says one day, from his spot at the piano.

 

Yunho, now standing, having been ready to give his usual praise before saying goodnight, goes impossibly still. His heart begins hammering. He’s not ready for this. He needs more time. He closes his eyes, shut them tight.

 

“I just don’t know _how_ you know.” The voice isn’t coming from the piano anymore.

 

Yunho reopens his eyes and stares down at his hands. They’re gripping the pew so hard his knuckles have turned completely white. He doesn’t know what to do.

 

“How do you know, Father?”The voice is beside him now. Just like his dream. Yunho gathers every inch of courage in his being and turns around to face the other man, _demon,_ Yunho reminds himself, andlooks into his eyes. They’re standing too close. Changmin seems to tower over him, but his face is gently questioning, searching. Yunho prays for more courage anyways.

 

“I… You showed up in a dream. Two weeks before you got here. I recognized your voice when we first met, but wasn’t sure ‘til the bar.” Yunho swallows, then whispers, “I believe it was God warning me.”

 

“Warning you? What do you mean?” Changmin asks, confusion apparent.

 

“You ripped my heart out with your bare hands, Changmin.” Yunho says it coldly, with a bitter laugh. The reminder of the first dream still heavy in him, still making him shake.

 

The silence stretches on for what seems like hours. Changmin’s eyes move back and forth between his own, searching, for what, Yunho doesn’t think he wants to know. And then Changmin speaks, and it’s hushed and beautifully curious.

 

“Do you still dream of me?”

 

Yunho wasn’t expecting that question, and he has to break eye contact to look at the floor so he can lie and say no.

 

One of the demon’s hands reaches up to grip the bottom of Yunho’s chin. The touch is as light and soft as a feather, but it sparks and smolders within him. His face is tilted back up until he’s looking into the other man’s eyes again.

 

“Yunho.” Changmin’s eyes are alight with something hungry and intense. He repeats his question. Yunho doesn’t respond, can’t respond. He can’t make it real.

 

“That night. At the bar. I could see that you’d figured it out, that you were sure. But you didn’t say anything. You’ve been nothing but kind to me since. Why?”

 

Yunho doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t done anything, hasn’t tried to make the demon leave. There’s just—something about Changmin that Yunho can’t shake off, can’t separate from, and the demon understands.

 

Changmin waits for the response he knows won’t come, then leans forward almost imperceptibly. His hand is still on Yunho’s chin. Yunho tells himself that’s why he doesn’t move away. The taller man keeps moving, millimeter by millimeter and stops, gaging. They stand there, mouths slightly open, breathing each other’s air. Their lips don’t touch, but Yunho still feels the all-consuming heat. Changmin tilts his head the slightest bit, gazes down into Yunho’s eyes, into his soul. His pupils are blown wide. Yunho has never felt this vulnerable in his entire life and it terrifies him, it excites him, it sets him on fire.

 

And then the hand gripping his chin lets go, and Changmin steps back. He thanks God for showing mercy because he knows he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself had the demon gone any further.

 

Yunho has to sit down then. He moves his hands to his lap, stares down at them. They’re trembling so he balls them into fists. He squeezes his eyes shut, keeps them shut for a long time. When he opens them again, Changmin is gone.

 

He sits alone in the cold, empty pews until he’s not shaking anymore. Then he stands up, walks to his room, falls into bed without even changing out of his cassock.

 

-

 

Yunho’s third dream goes like this:

 

He’s in bed and everything’s a little hazy but there’s a mouth on his and a body covering his own and one strong arm holds him by the waist while another cradles the back of his head. His insides are singeing, charring, turning into lava.

 

They break apart, he opens his eyes, looks up. Changmin looks back at him, his eyes have gone completely black. It’s this that makes Yunho grip the back of Changmin’s head and pull him back down into another searing, blistering kiss. Every atom and nerve and synapse in his brain is reduced to embers.

 

The hand on his waist slides down to latch onto the back of his thigh, hitches it up so it comes to rest around the demon’s lower back. Changmin’s tongue laps into his mouth, tastes every inch of him, leaving a trail of flames in his wake. Yunho lets himself be devoured, eyebrows brought together in concentration, comprehension, concession, he doesn’t know.

 

He wakes up two hours before his alarm, lays in bed for ten minutes, staring at the ceiling and willing his body to calm down. He prays. And then he gets up, exchanges his t-shirt and boxers for a sweater and jeans to protect him from the early morning chill, and goes outside.

 

-

 

The boardwalk is completely empty except for a few overachieving runners passing by. Yunho walks to the end of the longest pier, the one he likes best.

 

He sits at the edge as the sun rises, legs hanging over the damp wood. An unusually large wave and Yunho’s shoes would be soaked through. He looks out at the ocean and lets the gentleness he sees cover him in a blanket of peace. He lets the hushed, delicate wind mess up his hair, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his sweater because of the cold it brings. He takes a deep breath of the salty ocean scent. The sea is always calm here. It quiets Yunho’s mind, lets him talk to God. God doesn’t respond, but Yunho’s used to that.

 

As time marches forward, the colors of the world get bigger, brighter. Yunho has to squint a little to continue looking out at the waves. He thinks he sees a ship in the distance. He quells the foolish urge to attempt to swim out to it.

 

He hears another runner behind him, hears them slow down, hears them begin to walk down his pier. He hates that part of him is happy when he recognizes who the footsteps belong to, then thinks it can’t possibly be a coincidence that Changmin has found him here. The footsteps stop beside him.

 

“Father-”

 

“You can call me Yunho, you know,” Yunho interrupts, “especially when we’re not in the church. Are you sure you’re not following me?”

 

“Yunho, what are you doing out here?” Changmin ignores the question.

 

“Praying.” Yunho tells him, because it’s mostly the truth. “Sit down.”

 

He doesn’t see Changmin’s sneakers move, so he looks up out of curiosity. Changmin’s looking over the edge of the pier, into the waves below. Yunho notices that he’s in a sweatshirt and tight joggers and they make him look so fit that Yunho’s mouth goes a little dry. He looks further up and sees that the taller man’s face looks completely void of color and it carries the expression of someone who just smelled old milk.

 

“You’re scared of water?”

 

Changmin huffs. “I’m not scared, I just—I don’t love it.” He shivers minutely. Yunho suppresses a laugh. He’s definitely scared. Yunho didn’t know demons could be scared of things.

 

“Well then,” he picks his legs up, twists around, and offers up his hand, “help me up.”

 

Changmin complies, hauls Yunho to his feet, and there’s a second where they’re standing too close. The demon’s eyes flicker down to his lips so fast that Yunho thinks he might have imagined it. Something simmers between them. Yunho thinks of his dream and steps away.

 

“Walk me home.” Yunho realizes that he’s made a lot of demands in the past five minutes. Maybe he just needs to feel in control. He tacks on a _please_.

 

They walk to Yunho’s apartment attached to the church in the relative silence of the awakening world. The birds have started chirping. He hears a car horn honk in the distance, wonders what time it is. He hadn’t brought his phone. They reach his door.

 

“We can see souls, you know.” Yunho stops where he’s stood, attempting to fit his key into the lock. He turns around, raises an eyebrow.

 

“Yours is—it’s the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen.”

 

Yunho lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You must have not seen a lot of souls, then.” He goes back to unlocking the door, opens it and begins to make his way inside. A hand grabs his wrist to stop him and it burns. He turns back around.

 

“Yunho,” Changmin’s eyes bore into his, “invite me in.”

 

“I thought it was vampires that had to have permission to enter someone’s house.” The demon rolls his eyes.

 

“First of all, vampires aren’t real. Second of all, I don’t need permission. I was just being polite.” And then it’s Yunho’s turn to roll his eyes. He walks through the door, but holds it open for Changmin, waving his hand in a way that says _come on in, stupid._ Changmin shoots a cheesy grin at him as he walks through the threshold.

 

Yunho stands there awkwardly as the other man takes in his apartment, well, just the living room and kitchen. He looks at the three stuffed bears sitting on his couch and wants to melt into the ground a little bit. He watches as Changmin notices them, watches him smile, and it’s not mocking, it’s fond. Yunho still wants to melt, maybe not for the same reasons.

 

“Do you want something to eat?” Then Yunho backtracks. “Do demons eat?”

 

“We don’t need to, but I, um, I love human food.”

 

“Great, well, I have,” Yunho goes to open his pantry, “Frosted Flakes or vegetable soup.” Yunho tries not to cringe. There’s a pause.

 

“You know what, I’m okay actually. Do you have coffee, though?”

 

“Yes! Coffee, I can do coffee.” Yunho starts up his coffee machine, “Do you want cream or sugar?”

 

“I take it black.” Yunho barely resists saying _of course you do._

 

After they each have a mug in front of them, Changmin sitting at the counter while Yunho leans on it, Changmin reapproaches their earlier topic.

 

“I meant what I said, Yunho. And I have seen a lot of souls. More than the amount of people you’ve met in your lifetime. Hell, more than the amount of people you’ve probably even seen.” He sips at his coffee, looking at the priest with earnest eyes. Yunho doesn’t know how to react.

 

“I—what?”

 

“Most people, their soul is like, I don’t know, an aura around them. And there’s a—a rotten part, a little drop of sin, hate, malevolence, whatever you want to call it. They have a bunch of good intentions and thoughts and morals all around the edges and they push down into the middle. But the bad part, it’s like, the pit of a peach, you know? Sometimes it takes up a lot of room, sometimes a little, but everyone has one. It’s the dark parts of their mind, their deepest, most terrifying thoughts and desires.”

 

Yunho’s face is carefully blank. “If you try to tell me I don’t have one—”

 

“No, no,” Changmin interrupts, with a flick of his hand, “you have one. It’s just. It’s different.” He looks down into his mug.

 

“Different how?”

 

“It’s… Everyone’s aura is a mix of different colors. Really bad people’s tend to be ugly, like, the colors of mold, shit, blood. All the gross stuff. Good or neutral people have brighter colors, oranges, yellows, purples. Great people are the colors of earth, soft browns, greens, blues, stuff like that. But everyone has a mix, all the colors blend together. And everyone has that rottenness.

 

“Yours, though. It’s just—it’s white, it glows. I’ve never seen that before. Even your pit, it’s like. It’s like fire, almost. It’s not rotten, it’s just burning. I don’t know how to describe it. When we first met I almost thought you were an angel.”

 

Yunho just sits there, dumbstruck, staring at Changmin with his mouth ajar.

 

“Why are you telling me this?” It’s the only question he can think to ask.

 

“Because you’re so _good_ , Yunho. And I know you don’t believe me, but you can’t see what I see.” Yunho listens to this and promptly disregards it. It’s not true. It can’tbe.

 

“How do you know I’m good if you’ve never seen a soul like mine before?”

 

“Souls are my job, Yunho, crushing them, consuming them. When I see a soul an inherent part of me says _destroy._ I want to break them into pieces, devour them. But when I saw yours,” Changmin stops, takes a deep breath, his lips quirking up in a small, disbelieving smile, “my first thought was that it was so beautiful that I would do anything to make sure it was never harmed.” And then he looks up into Yunho’s eyes, and Yunho knows he’s telling the truth. It hits him like a punch to the gut, like a wild fire.

 

Yunho breaks the eye contact, looks down, thinks about how he willingly invited a demon into his home 20 minutes ago. How said demon is probably his closest friend since he moved to this town all those years ago. How said demon is becoming increasingly more important to him as each day passes. How said demon was starting to make him feel emotions he was sure he had locked up the second he was ordained.

 

And then said demon pushes his chair back, stands up and walks over to where Yunho is still leaning on the counter. He whispers _look at me_ so Yunho does. Changmin reaches out and moves the hair that had been disheveled in the wind back into place. The touch is so delicate it makes Yunho want to cry.

 

“I don’t know what you’re thinking about right now, so I can only tell you this: Souls aren’t built on how well someone follows a religious code. They’re built on goodness. They’re built on someone’s willingness to help people—on what they do for the world, what they do for themselves. They’re built on love. Plain and simple. And all you’ve ever done is good, Yunho. All you’ve ever done is love. I can see it all around you, even if you can’t.”

 

Yunho’s heart lurches something fierce.

 

-

 

After that morning, they develop another routine. Meeting each other on the dock every Sunday morning, just as the sun is rising. Sometimes they just sit (not on the edge of the pier, much to Yunho’s disappointment and Changmin’s comfort). Sometimes Changmin makes Yunho go running with him (also to Yunho’s disappointment). Sometimes they just walk around (Yunho’s okay with this one).

 

They talk, while they’re out there. Yunho tells Changmin of his childhood, of his father who was also a priest. Of his mother who always told him to do what he wanted with his life, but still cried with relief when he said he was going to seminary.

 

Changmin tells Yunho of his life before he became a demon. How he became one in the first place. Yunho would never call selling your soul to the devil justified, but Changmin’s stories have him coming pretty close. He never says why he came to the church. Yunho doesn’t ask.

 

Every anecdote that Changmin tells him of his unnaturally long life has Yunho more and more enamored. Makes him fall a little deeper into something he isn’t quite ready to name yet. He listens to Changmin speak of his travels, of how he wandered the world by himself for so long. Yunho finds himself wishing he could have been there with him. One day he asks the question that had been bothering him since the beginning.

 

“Why were you always alone?”

 

Changmin’s lips form a thin line, like he’s contemplating the right answer to give. “Most demons aren’t exactly the nicest people. It’s kinda hard to make friends when all they care about is eating souls.”

 

“Could you not have made human friends?”

 

“I—I try not to. Humans… Forming relationships—friendships, romance, whatever—with them just ends in heartbreak. Your lives are so, _so_ short, but still long enough that I grow to care much too deeply before Death rips you away.” Changmin looks down at his feet as he walks. Yunho feels like there’s a story behind this. He hopes to hear it one day.

 

“Why are you friends with me then?” Yunho tries not to sound hurt.

 

A pause, a deep breath.

 

“You’re worth the heartbreak, I think.”

 

-

 

He’s laying in a bed. It’s not his, but at the same time it is. It’s familiar and comfortable and Yunho stretches as the serene morning sunlight shines through the window.

 

Changmin appears at his side and rolls over, throws an arm across Yunho’s stomach, rests his chin on his chest. Yunho looks down into those doe eyes and _god_. He thinks he’s never seen anything so close to salvation, so close to heaven. And it incinerates him.

 

He lets Changmin pull him out of the bed, lets him kiss him even though they both have morning breath, lets him guide them both to the kitchen. He sits down at the counter while Changmin makes coffee, and when it’s done, a steaming cup is placed in front of him accompanied by a sweet, soft kiss on the forehead. And it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

 

Arms wrap around his waist from behind in the form of a hug. Another kiss against his neck and it’s so fucking sweet Yunho can’t stand it. Can’t get enough of it.

 

 _Good morning_ is whispered against his ear and Yunho _wants._ He wants mornings like this for the rest of his life. He wants the love and the gentleness and the heartache. He wants the ungodly heat that leaves him drowning in fire. He wants Changmin.

 

His alarm goes off at 7:45am and Yunho wakes up and cries.

 

-

 

It’s Saturday afternoon and Yunho is sitting in the confession booth when he hears the door of the conjoined room open. He straightens up, ready to hear what his fellow church member has to say, prepares his mind with possibly relevant Bible verses and his own advice.

 

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” And Yunho goes still and silent, the only thing audible is his heart raging in his chest. He hasn’t talked to Changmin since his last dream.

 

“It’s been, oh, 300 years since my last confession.” Yunho doesn’t laugh because he knows it’s probably true.

 

“Changmin.”

 

“Father.”

 

“Isn’t it kind of pointless to come to confession considering your soul is already condemned to Hell.”

 

“Can’t a demon get some things off of his chest every now and then?”

 

“I think therapy might be the better option.”

 

“I doubt the therapist would have a voice as sweet as yours.” Yunho rolls his eyes.

 

“Get on with it then.”

 

“Well Father, I lied to a church member last week. I stole someone’s wallet, too, but his soul was absolutely filthy so I felt it was okay.” Yunho makes a noncommittal sound.

 

“And, well,” Changmin takes a deep breath, almost sounding nervous, “I don’t think this is a sin, but it’s definitely a confession.”

 

“Go on.” Yunho says, albeit apprehensively.

 

There’s a pause.

 

“I think I might be in love, Father.” 

 

Yunho stands up immediately.

 

“No.”

 

“No?” He could hear Changmin’s confusion. He exits his side of the booth, goes to wrench Changmin’s door open. He grabs the arm of the very surprised demon, hauls him up off of his bench.

 

“Come on.” The priest says. His hands haven’t let go of Changmin’s, dragging him somewhere they can actually talk. It ends up being Yunho’s office. When he gets them both inside, he shuts the door and locks it. He turns around to face the other man.

 

“You can’t just—you can’t just _say_ things like that. You can’t say that in a confession booth where you know I can’t see you. That’s not—that’s—” He breaks off, his mind completely frazzled. He throws his hands up in an exasperated gesture.

 

Changmin looks at him for a long time.

 

“You know I’m not gonna rip your heart out, right?”

 

And Yunho breaks. Everything he’s been thinking and fearing for the past however many months comes spilling out. He advances on the demon.

 

“Then why are you doing this?” Yunho asks, whisper-yells, frantically, desperation rolling off of his tongue. He’s moved into Changmin’s space. He feels fire in his eyes and it must show, because Changmin’s eyes widen the tiniest bit and he takes a step back.

 

“Doing what?” And it’s so _so_ innocent and genuine that Yunho laughs. They can both hear how broken it sounds.

 

“Everything, Changmin! Why did you come here? Why did you take an interest in this place? In me? You said you didn’t want to change my soul,” Yunho pauses, then whispers, “so why did you ruin me?” And it’s that question that has Changmin visibly fighting back tears. Yunho can see him swallow, sees his chin wobble almost imperceptibly. His eyes look glossy, angry and sad at the same time. It completely dissipates Yunho’s own anger.

 

“I’ll admit,” Changmin starts, “I came here because I was stupid, and bored. Demons live a long fucking time, Yunho. I picked a random church and thought it’d be fun if I could figure out how to get in. Hallowed ground and all. And when I did, I thought, you know, why not take it a step further? So I took the pianist job, was gonna see how long it would take someone to figure out. It was stupid. So fucking stupid.”

 

Changmin steps close, encases his hands around Yunho’s face in a desperately gentle way. He rubs his thumbs back and forth across Yunho’s cheeks, wipes a stray tear away.

 

“But, I never, _never_ did anything to hurt you. Not deliberately. You weren’t part of the plan. This, us, it’s not a game for me.” He pauses, “You could turn the devil himself into a saint, Yunho. I couldn’t rip your heart out if I tried.”

 

Yunho releases a shuddering breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, reaches up to place his hand on top of the other man’s. They stare at each other. A silent understanding takes place.

 

And Changmin kisses him. And it burns. It burns so bad and hot that Yunho doesn’t know what to do except close his eyes and kiss back. It’s a raging fire and it consumes him and eats him alive and he never wants it to stop. Changmin licks into his mouth like a flame and Yunho lets it melt and scorch and scald until he’s reduced to ash in the other’s arms. A strong, sure hand moves to grip him by the waist so he won’t fall and Yunho grabs his shoulders, his arms, anything he can reach just to stay above ground.

 

He thinks _demon demon demon_ in his head like a mantra hoping it will pull him out of this inferno, but it just makes him hold on tighter and kiss harder and he realizes that Changmin lied. _This_ is the ripping out of his heart. This is the sweetness and the poison and the _burning._

 

He realizes that this is love, manifested.

**Author's Note:**

> i briefly read back over this to check for mistakes so if there's anything just glaringly stupid i apologize. i'll go back and read over everything again when my brain has regained it's ability to function
> 
> also the title is from a poem called "You" by Carol Ann Duffy. i completely happened upon it a couple days after i started this and it fit sooooo well i would highly recommend reading it


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